Fault Me
by Mir N
Summary: Erik escapes the mob, but Christine is arrested and imprisoned instead as the public searches for someone to blame for the recent catastrophes. Desperate, Raoul is forced to seek the help of the one person he hates most. ErikChristine.


**Disclaimer:** Nothing is mine! Leroux, Webber, and Schumacher own all. This one is definitely based mostly on the movie.

**A/N:** For anyone who reads 'Lament', rest assured that I am NOT abandoning it. The next chapter is almost finished and will be posted soon. In the meantime, here's another idea that I've been tossing around for a while now.

**Chapter One: Take This Angel**

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The cool water circled about her ankles, its distinctive current slipping by her skin as if lulling her to run. She knew that she should raise her foot and climb onto the smooth wood of the gondola and into the waiting arms of Raoul, but somehow she could not bring herself to take the final step by herself. Eyes guilty, she glanced up at her lover imploringly and begged him to help her; to push her in a direction, for she could no longer make a single choice of her own.

After the decision she had just been forced to make, she felt as if she truly could no longer think for herself again. It was too much to ask! How could a simple human soul possess the power to make such a judgment? Why should one ever _have_ to do so? The mind was an intricate enigma itself and could comprehend many puzzling elements of the universe, but it would never unwind the mysteries of the heart.

How could she even be certain she had made the right choice?

She _knew_ she had done something terrible; understood that in her actions, she had somehow committed a dreadful sin. Wavering in her resolve for a single moment, she dropped her arms against her sides and clenched at the fabric of her dress. Tatters met her wretched fingers, the design of the lovely garment having been mutilated within the damp waters of the lake. What a pity it was to have marred such a beautiful thing! She reached for the sweeping folds at the base of the wedding dress and delicately draped the train over her elbow. She resolved to mend it as soon as she could obtain a needle and thread.

"Christine, we _must_ go."

The voice of her lover brought her out of her trance. Raoul stood shakily before her, one hand steadying the gondola to prevent it from drifting away. He held his other hand out to her, reaching for her chilled fingers which would not let go of the frills of the dress.

Christine shook her head just once. "No, Raoul! Let me hold it -- it would be a crime to destroy such a pretty costume." She spoke loosely, her voice raised with the inflection of an absent-minded chorus girl who existed merely to fuss over fancy clothes and exclaim over precious objects.

The man caught her about the waist, raising her gently into the boat. "My poor Christine; you have truly suffered an ordeal this night."

"No," she disagreed softly, leaning against him momentarily after he had pushed off from the shore and begun to pole them across the lake. "I am not even worthy of suffering; I cannot allow myself to grieve, for I am below even such an emotion. To give me pity would be to give your sympathy to a monster."

Raoul sighed, wanting to give his love words of comfort. "Christine, you may be certain of your safety. You have been released from the prison of that true monster and you will never see him again. You have nothing more to fear from him for as long as you live. I swear it to you."

Words that were meant as instruments of comfort instead fell flat upon her ears, inciting her to give a cry of dismay. "Oh, Raoul, do not say such things!" She begged of her lover, fresh tears from her eyes staining the back of his torn evening shirt. Christine dared a fleeting look over her shoulder, but it was too late, for the gondola had drifted beyond the view of Erik's home.

It could have been her home as well.

Christine furiously tightened her hold upon Raoul, wanting to feel as much of him beside her as possible. She needed to sense something real; to touch a soul who promised her only pure skies filled with the brilliant sunlight of joy and normalcy.

_Normalcy_. Now there was a word that had no place in her existence. Could Raoul lead her back into the world of humanity? Could he show her the way to live a life among her fellow creatures?

"Guide me, please," she whispered.

The prow of the elegant boat bumped against the shore as soon as she spoke, which prevented Raoul from hearing her soft plea. Hastily, he lifted Christine out after himself and set her down upon the solid shore. She stumbled for a moment, brown eyes widening in alarm at the thought of a collapse. Sensing her unsteadiness, Raoul caught her once more and allowed the distressed girl to sink to the damp ground. He held both her hands in his, alarm tugging at his heart as she bent her wonderful head and allowed a sob to escape her throat.

Cautious, so as not to frighten her, Raoul leaned over so that he could kiss the messy mop of curls which faced him. Christine trembled the moment she felt the contact, but then she suddenly flung her arms about Raoul and held him desperately.

"I'm so frightened," she exclaimed in a muffled tone. "Help me, Raoul. Help me to do what is right. What should I do? What should I have _done_?"

"Hush," Raoul murmured, anxious to soothe all her fears. "You did only what you could, Christine. You are your own creature, my love; I could never answer that question for you."

Christine cried out once more, shaking her head so that her curls tumbled in every direction imaginable. "Take me to the light; please, let me leave!" She looked back at the lake fearfully, as if waiting for the approach of a familiar tall shade through the mists. Then again, was it fear or the nervous anticipation that indicated desire? Did she in fact wish to see that figure once again?

Perhaps in the daylight, everything would make more sense.

"Take me home," Christine whispered to Raoul. "Take me home and allow me to forget."

It would be better to forget. It would make living with herself less painful. She even dared to hope that she could one day allow herself to forget the haunted look in her angel's eyes after she had given him one of the worst kinds of pain a human soul could ever conceivably endure. Would he now drift away from this place? Would he be forced to turn his tortured face to the sunlight as well?

No, she knew he would hide both his face and his essence from the world forever. Only once had he dared to free his spirit from the careful confines he had built around it, and that had been to her. Now that she had become yet another callous ogre that had betrayed him, she knew that the world might never see even a glimmer of that heart ever again.

_Oh, Erik…Forgive me for desiring to bask in the light of the sun. Forgive me._

How she hated herself! How she could not help herself either!

Raoul had begun to lead away from the lake, all the while uttering words that were incomprehensible to her mind. Her ears caught his intonations, but she could not interpret what he was saying. Words of betrayal and guilt echoed through her weary mind, assaulting the senses unforgivingly.

_I was unable to turn my face away from that garish light of day that you spoke of so teasingly. Forgive me for loving the safety of the daylight so much._

She knew that she never could have survived in the darkness. Raoul was her light and she had been compelled to stay beside him. The guilt would always remain, but could she live with it? Could she live with the fact that she truly was not as special as many had lead her to believe? She was nothing now, and didn't she know it.

Raoul abruptly halted their progress and Christine tripped against him. He helped her to maintain her balance and righted the girl once again, patient in his actions. Then he turned his face up to regard the vast caverns, his eyes unfocused as if he pondered something private.

Christine tugged at his sleeve beseechingly; "Raoul?"

He motioned for her silence and pointed down the passageway that stretched before them. "Do you hear it?"

_Down once more…_

_This murderer…_

_He must be found…_

_Murderer._

_Killer._

_Freak._

_Monster._

"No!" Christine furiously set her icy palms against her ears and shook her head fervently. "They're wrong, Raoul!" She twisted in her steps and flung herself in the general direction that led back toward the lake; "I have to warn him!" If she did not run back and save his life now, she would never forgive herself. She could leave with Raoul only in the knowledge that her beloved angel was indeed safe.

Why had she left him in the first place? Why could she not have gathered the courage to simply stay by his side? Why was she such a coward?

_You turn back only because you wish to clear your own conscience_, a wicked corner of her mind whispered. _To abandon him entirely to his misery is permissible; but for him to die now would be as if you had murdered him by your own hand._

"Haven't I already done that?" Christine whispered, even as she felt someone grab hold of her and halt her progress back to the lake. She recognized Raoul's touch and fought against his grip; "Let me go!"

"Christine, it's too late," he murmured, indicating that she turn her head to the livid flares of torchlight swiftly approaching the underground lake. Within moments, the figures bearing the torches became distinct. Christine fearfully noted that the mob had swelled greatly and that most brandished fire in their ranks, the scorching light a suggestion of their anger.

What disturbed her the most, however, was the fact that the mob came from an adjoining passageway that led not to the lair, but from it. It was the same direction in which Erik had dragged her down after _Don Juan_, and she now realized that Raoul had utilized the gondola in a deliberate attempt to evade this very mob.

And if they were returning, it could only mean one thing.

_Erik is already dead. You killed him_.

"_No!_" Despite her scream and kicks, Raoul maintained his firm grip on the girl until she sagged after the last of her strength dissipated. "No," she repeated, hanging her head and clasping his hands, more in an attempt to seek comfort now.

When she next raised her face to the torchlight, the mob had taken note of them and was swiftly approaching in their maddened frenzy. At the forefront were various employees of the theater, accompanied by gendarmes which looked every bit as crazed. The officials did not hold torches, but rude guns. Several clicked small pistols as the crowd swarmed around Raoul and Christine, forming an angry circle about the two of them.

The torchlight flickered dully off the cavern walls and lent an ethereal tone to the entire scene. It was as if the two young lovers faced their own Last Judgment, standing there on the brink of Hell with the flames already lapping at their skins and illuminating the faces of those who condemned them.

Instinctively, Raoul guarded Christine in a protective embrace and turned to regard the mob boldly. The shouts of _murderer_ and _he must be found_ continued to reverberate about the pair, but the front of the mob had gone silent. A gendarme stepped forward and attempted to calm the crowd behind him, but for the most part it was no use. Some stood quietly, waiting to see what would happen, while others continued to clamor for the continuation of their search.

"Are you hurt, Mademoiselle Daaé?" The man asked at last, removing his hat in a rather obscene gesture of courtesy. He hefted a pistol in one hand, the object obviously loaded and ready to shoot to kill.

Christine glanced nervously at the weapon, but Raoul appeared unfazed. "She will be quite all right," he informed the man. "Will you allow us to pass from this place?"

The gendarme opened his mouth, but before he could say anything in reply, Christine interrupted. "What happened to Erik?" The girl demanded this breathlessly, slipping away from Raoul's hold and addressing the official urgently.

"Christine, _please_ -," Raoul began.

"The Ghost, monsieur, did you find him?" She pressed on. "Please tell me, is he dead? Is he alive?" Moving closer to the gendarme, she fell to her knees piteously; "Monsieur, I must know."

"We found no one!" One of the stage hands spat quite suddenly, answering the question.

"Bloody bastard escaped!" Another put in, stomping his foot and cursing vehemently.

A general shout went up among the mob as they began to roar for blood once more. As for Christine, she could not help but allow fresh tears to fall in her relief.

"Oh, thank God," she blurted at the ground, sobbing noisily. "Thank God you're safe, Erik!" Christine turned to Raoul, who still stood above her; "Did you hear, Raoul? Erik escaped! He _escaped_!"

"Christine, be quiet!" Raoul hissed, crouching beside her. "Still your tongue before they harm you for saying such things!"

"What do you mean?" His slight fiancée inquired, entirely blind to the dangers of the words which she had uttered. Slowly, she became aware of the general hush which had settled over the mob. Murmurs began to travel back and forth and suddenly the caverns were filled with the harsh buzz of frustrated and furious individuals.

"The bitch feels pity!" Cried one, guffawing loudly. "She weeps for the monster!"

"Does she? But _why_?"

"What does it matter? Perhaps she orchestrated the entire incident!"

"Maybe this beauty was in league with the freak all along! Some bold scheme to catapult her to prominence!"

"Indeed! With scandal comes fame!"

"Or infamy! But it is all the same to these diva types!"

"Arrest _her_!"

"It would be better than nothing!"

"Yes, arrest her! Her! Her! It is all her fault in any case!"

"Shut up, all of you!" Raoul roared, standing up and starting toward the man who was closest to him.

Regaining her senses momentarily, Christine grabbed for him; "Raoul, _stop_! They'll kill you!"

She did not know what she would do if Raoul was taken away from her as well. Her relief at news of Erik's clean escape had already begun to dissolve, to be replaced with the clear conclusion that now she truly would never see him again.

Christine looked to the gendarme for help, assuming that he might be the lone voice of reason among the ghastly nature of the mob. As soon as her eyes met his, she knew that there would be no bargaining with him; the damage had already been done. Already, she could distinguish the agitation that played in his eyes, induced from both frustration and confusion.

"Monsieur…" she began, determined to try nonetheless.

"No, I will hear none of it." The gendarme walked toward the girl, ignoring Raoul's protests. "Monsieur le Vicomte; if you do not remove yourself from my path, I _will_ shoot you."

Despite the threat, Raoul stood adamantly before Christine, shielding her from the collective anger of the mob. "Then shoot me. I assure you that you will not find yourself in possession of your freedom for much longer if you do carry out your threat. There are many who would not take kindly to my murderer."

The gendarme, however, was unmoved. He graced the pair with a cool expression and remarked; "I only want the girl, but I could arrest both of you."

Already, the mob had begun to close in around Raoul and Christine. Still scowling, Raoul pressed Christine into his arms and refused to let her go. "If you must take someone, take me, but it will be senseless! You cannot possibly hope to gain a thing!"

"Do get on with it!" Someone from the mob shouted. "Arrest the girl! We only want the greedy tramp, not her fool of a fiancé!"

In their numbers, the mob had indeed grown bold. Christine grimaced and closed her eyes, shaking her head as if willing this nightmare to tumble from her mind.

"How was it that we found you two wandering so confidently through this labyrinth?" The gendarme suddenly inquired, turning to look at us thoughtfully. "There was only one entrance which you _should_ have known, which was the one we followed tonight. Yet here you are, Mademoiselle Daaé."

The rest of the mob instantly took up his reasoning. "How does she know?"

"Yes, how?"

"She must have come here all the time!"

"Of course!"

"Arrest her!"

"Take her! She is to blame!"

When the gendarme began to advance toward the trembling soprano and her frantic lover once again, Christine placed one small hand on Raoul's sleeve in a pleading gesture. She shook her head at the futility of his protests and stepped in front of him; "Raoul, you have already done enough for me. I couldn't bear it if you were harmed again."

She shuddered when the first rough hand took her elbow and pulled her away from Raoul's surprised and anguished hold. "I must show something for my efforts, mademoiselle," the gendarme informed her even as the mob roared its hideous approval. "It is necessary to satisfy the hunger of the masses."

Christine searched frantically for one forgiving face among the crowd, but there was none to be found. She felt that the gendarme's grip on her exhausted limbs was perhaps a trifle too tight; that his movements were too harsh as he began to pull her along behind him. Yet, she could no longer protest. As soon as she was in the hands of the mob, they closed ranks behind her and bore her to the surface as a wave, before it breaks, might catch and toss a feather.

She did not even have a chance to intone a farewell to her lover.

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Paris.

How he loathed the city now. The lights sparkling lazily in the darkness were a mere mockery of comfort and safety. From this point, everything appeared cozy and harmless, but he knew better. He was not to be drawn back into the charms of city, nor did he expect to return to a concentrated center of humanity ever again in his life.

With Christine, his very soul had vanished. Everything that made him who he was had grown cold; _Erik_ as a man and as a living human creature had ceased to exist the moment her divine shape draped entirely in cream silk had disappeared from his eyes. One angel had fluttered to her Heaven, while the other had sunken into a Hell so deep that even Lucifer writhed to hear of it.

And he had once believed that he truly had known all the misery in the world.

What a fool he was! How could he pride himself on his intelligence when he continuously committed such follies? He should have known better by now! He should not have condemned himself to this misery that was essentially of his own making.

"It is all your fault, Erik," he told himself in the silence. "Do not _dare_ to look to any corner of the world for pity now. You never deserved it; now, least of all."

The night was late and he stood entirely alone upon an elegant bridge. Below the curving architecture drifted the waters of the Seine river, abandoned in this unholy hour when creatures who did not dare to show their faces to daylight came out to play.

In the darkness, he allowed himself a private smirk. "I imagine how she will look back upon all of this and laugh at the memory of me! By now, I suppose that she has already begun to forget as she lies in the embrace of that boy of hers." Erik caught at his cloak, which was fluttering chaotically in a sudden rush of wind; "I can teach myself not to care. After all, the world claims that I am a cold and unfeeling thing -- does that not mean that it must be true? That is, if everyone says it is so?"

Then he let out one final laugh and clapped a hand to his forehead, sensing the edge of the mask against his palm. "Just listen! Talking to yourself, are you, Erik? Then I have finally begun to go mad! May it be a relief to become no more than a drooling imbecile at last!"

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**A/N:** Well, I'm crossing my fingers that this wasn't too boring. It's rather strange to write because this feels so different from the 'Lament' style. But hope that everyone enjoyed it anyway!

One more thing…I'm really sorry if I slip into first person at times. I caught it in a couple places and hope that I fished it all out. Habits are hard to break!


End file.
